


Babe

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a moment of lucidity in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyrnal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kyrnal).



> A/N: Fill for a request.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It could still be a dream—everything’s still hazy. It’s dark in the room—dark outside—space isn’t dark like that—back on Earth? Jim cranes his head around, his neck stiff against something soft. Pillows. Cold, white walls, and he’s in a bed. Everything’s white. Everything buzzes faintly, not hurt so much as sore, dully and painfully sore. There’re windows behind him, looking out on everything he remembers of the city. He’s in a hospital. He knows that.

Things come rushing back to him: his ship, his crew, _Spock on the other side of the glass,_ their hands almost touching. His heart constricts. Jim has to know what happened, has to know everything’s okay. It must be. They made it. They’re on Earth; he’s not dead. His head is pounding. His limbs feel numb, his extremities tingling. He tries to lift his head up, but he’s too weak, and he inevitably falls back down.

A deep chuckle comes from the chair beside the bed. How did Jim not notice that before? He jerks to the side, eyes going wide as a figure steps out of the shadows, walking the length of Jim’s hospital bed. Strolling casually. Growling on instinct, Jim tries to sit up again. It can’t be. He’s _dead_.

He’s right there, getting close enough to touch, leaning over Jim’s bed, his dark hair tumbling over his ice eyes. _Khan._ But his ship... it should’ve been destroyed. Jim should’ve been destroyed. Khan reaches out a hand, long fingers stroking Jim’s cheek, and he purrs in his deep, too-erotic voice, “It’s good to see you awake, _Captain_.” He always twists that title, like it’s more intimate than it is—a pet name or something endearing. Jim wants to jerk his face out of Khan’s grip.

He wants to snarl with fury. The listless throbbing is suddenly drowned out by his panic. “How did you—”

“I let them think I slept,” Khan says, like nothing, like this is _easy._ “and I waited, watching you, letting your _Bones_ nurse you back to health...”

Jim’s chest tightens instantly. Bones. “Where he is?” He’s frantic in seconds, but Khan simply chuckles again, grabbing Jim’s chin and holding him in place. Jim tries to push Khan away, but his arms are too weak. He grabs at Khan’s wrist, but his fingers fall aside like oil. It’s frustrating and degrading and Jim’s full of confusion and _hatred_.

“He’s fine; don’t worry your pretty head. Another massacre is a mess I can’t afford at the moment—not while they think they’ve beaten me, anyway.”

They. This isn’t making any sense, and Khan’s at his side again, peeling away Jim’s blanket. Jim’s face is hot, and he’s only wearing a thin hospital gown, too short and too sheer, and he’s burning. Recognition dawns on him at the look in Khan’s eyes—he’s seen that hunger before in his own mirror. This can’t be happening. This can’t seriously be happening. The thought of what Khan’s here for makes his stomach churn and his cock twitch all at once. Khan’s strong hand lands on Jim’s knee, the touch heavy and tingling. Gritting his teeth, Jim groans, “What’re you doing...?”

“Just looking,” Khan purrs. “You were a very naughty boy on that ship, Captain. Having your officer stun me and your Vulcan feed me lies... Besides, I could use a bargaining chip on my new ship, and maybe some _fun_...”

Jim’s head hurts too much for him to understand right now how he feels about that. It makes him sick, but Khan’s warm voice is rolling over him in waves, Khan’s skillful fingers now tracing light patterns on his leg. If he were more conscious, he’s sure he’d be ashamed of his own mind.

Instead, he’s weak and useless, and he can’t do anything to stop it as Khan scoops him easily up, one hand under his knees and one under his back. It’s as though he’s wearing anti-gravs. His head falls against Khan’s strong chest, his fingers trying to hold onto Khan’s shirt but unable, his legs too numb to kick. He hates it and he’s angry and sick, and he gulps and tries to hiss, “Put me down...”

“If you don’t behave, I’ll drop that precious doctor of yours,” Khan says simply, headed for the doors.

They slide open easily, and Khan takes him out into the world, tiny and trembling all over again.


End file.
